Tag Archives: shopping

I Love Magic Cos Clothes

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I don’t know if it’s just being away from Glasgow,  the close proximity of the magnificent Westfield Centre over there or what it is, but these days, I feel weary of the well-trodden vintage shopping trail and weirdly, the pages of my Independent Shopping city guide are leaving me cold.  All very out of character.  I feel out of sync with my own self.

While I wait for some renewed indie inspiration and the resurfacing of my creative ‘mojo’ (for want of a better word – and trust me, I really, really wish I could have avoided the word ‘mojo’), I’m amusing myself by revisiting [dun, dun, duuuuuuuun...] The High Street.

I stumbled upon Cos in Glasgow around Christmas time.  I took Santa (my mother) there.  I asked Santa Clause if (s)he might gift me a dress I liked. Santa told me my dream frock made me look 6 months pregnant and subsequently talked me out of it.  In my tummy, I hoped Santa was playing a trick.  You know, one of those classic Santa tricks where (s)he pretends you’re not getting the present you really, really would like very much but then on Christmas Day you’re presented with a surprise parcel and are super pleased to realise Santa didn’t really mean it when (s)he said you looked 6 months pregnant and had only gone and bought your present when you weren’t there to make the whole affair all the more special.  Christmas Day came and went and no Cos frock emerged from any Christmas cubby holes.

I was lucky to receive quite a lot of ‘money-in-a-card’ style presents from aunties and in-laws and as they all totted up, I had more than enough cashola to buy the dress I wanted from Cos myself.  And I did.  I also bought yellow tights and cow print shoes. Convinced this outfit would be the outfit I’d wear in London when I met Mary Portas (who would then obviously go on to think I was quite fabulous, realise very quickly how painfully talented I am and insist I work with her on a Top Secret Project to reinvigorate the retail landscape), I felt the investment was well worth it.

Apart from trying it on once to show Beardy how well my cow print shoes and yellow tights complimented it, I vowed not to wear My Cos Dress outside until I reached London.  When I reached London I vowed not to wear it outside until I was definitely going to be in the same room as Mary Portas.  However, I did decide that it was ok to wear it to have my portrait taken for my Vintage Correspondent 2012 profile.

Since meeting Mary Portas seemed really rather unlikely, I broke the promise and wore my dress to a meeting (albeit a very exciting meeting).  I announced to everyone there, following loads of lovely compliments about my choice of frock, that I’d bought it specially from Cos and that I promised myself I wouldn’t wear it until I felt the occasion was special enough.  ”Today’s the day!”, I shared enthusiastically.  Maybe too enthusiastically.  I’m quite sure the former-fancy-magazine-editor-turned-fancy-Brand-Manager and glamalicious Chief Brand Ambassador thought I was nuts – though really they should think themselves lucky that I didn’t go on to explain that I’d teamed the frock with white tights instead of yellow as originally intended and that I’d ditched my cow print shoes for my mary janes – which, as it happens, I bought specially for the Nokia tour etc., etc.. It’s a shame really.  It’s not their fault I haven’t had any money to buy brand new clothes in over 3 years…

Anyway – the long and short of it?  I am now obsessed with Cos.  I pronounce it Cossss but other people I’ve mentioned it to have pronounced the name Coz.  Like ‘cos’/because.  That’s not right is it?  How could such a lovely fashion brand have such an unpleasant and jaggy name?  I’m sure it must be Cossss.  Do you know?

These are some of the beautiful things you could buy from Cos if you wanted to…

Leather Top 

Reversed Sleeve Top

A-Line Cotton Skirt

Green Elasticated Waist Dress

Flap Pocket Shirt Dress

Leather Pocket Dress

I think it’s quite, quite obvious that I did not take these photographs and I’d point and laugh at the person who thinks I did/thinks I have the brass neck or iffy morals to pass them off as my own.  I have borrowed all product shots from the Cos website.

Now.  Listen up.  The next time someone criticises you or laughs at you or pokes you with one of those novelty plastic walking stick things filled with Smarties when you try explaining that some clothes have special powers, don’t you listen to ‘em!  My Cos Dress?  It IS magic.  And I can prove it.

Knock-Knock-Who’s-There?-Leona-Thriftola-Oh-Do-Come-In!

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Carrie Not The Kind of Girl You’d Marry is a big, fat, lazy heap of  sleepyhead this evening. After a looooong day stomping around town in search of some bargainatious winter wardrobe staples  followed by a looooong evening Made in the Shade-ing, I am officially pooped.  So pooped infact that the filling I made this morning for my long awaited beetroot tart is still in the fridge.  I was very nearly a good housewife there -  just for a split second.  But I’ve gone and ruined it now.  The beetroot tart will need to wait until tomorrow. As will the post about my shopping trip I had planned. All you need to know for now are these salient facts:

1.  I now officially own a pair of leggings.

2.  I can think of at least hundred reasons why I no longer want to live in Glasgow – and, turns out?  Most of ‘em can be found hanging out in McDonald’s on Argyle Street.

3.  Today I became a charity shop champion. Made up ‘bargainatious’ simply is not the word.  Well, it’s not A word, but…  Whatever.

Talking of fabulous bargains  – a great big box arrived at my house this morning.  I wasn’t going to answer the buzzer at first (I very rarely do.  Heck – it might be debt collectors.  Or door to door charity muggers.  Or worse still, the Irish Catholic missionaries that seem to enjoy holding my hand or, OR the stupid electricty meter reader guy who refuses to understand that I need at least two days notice to be able to guarantee him access to  the  Giant Cupboard of Crap where said meter is installed). Anyway, I did answer the door.  And I’m glad I did. I am a big brave girl.  The postman brought me a tonne of ‘desperately-trying-to-cheer-myself-up’ gifts I’d purchased from Leona Thriftola’s surprise £1 sale  :)

Here’s just some of the treasure I bagged… (Let’s do pictures tonight, huh?  Too much talky talky tires a gal out!)

I spotted this on Leona Thriftola’s shelf the very first time I visited her studio.

The Japanese rainbow keyboard lives  in my house now – though it’s currently on display with it’s pretty red case closed. I’ve decided that it won’t flash it’s cute pastel keys until it’s sitting pride of place in our new flat in London.

I know what I’m doing with the rest of my evening!  You’ll find me crimpin’ it up, baby.  Crimpin’ it up – and not in a Mighty Boosh kind of way neither.  Pretty soon, my barnet will be as bumpy as the ride to town on the 38 bus.

Rather ironically, I bought this beautiful vintage kitty bank to inspire Beardy and I to save, save, save. Hmm.

This is my new Holiday Book.  I’ve decided that it will document next week’s Carrie Not The Kind of Girl You’d Marry solo trip to London Town.  It is blue.  And beautiful. And look!  It even has handy phrases in French and Spanish and German and Italian in it!

I’m not going to say too much about this just yet since I can feel a full blown post coming on.  What I will say though is, “Wow”.  I think we know each other well enough now for you to guess how flippin’ excited I am.

Yes.  I think you understand.

Tiny food!  Everybody loves tiny food.  When we finally get to move south to our new city life, Beardy and I will each use one of these to keep our new house keys safe.  And cute.

Visit Leona’s shoppe at:  www.thrift-ola.com – but I swear, if you buy the Elvis rug,  I will take you down.

Red Suede Shorts

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I cannot get these red suede shorts out of my head.  This weird obsessing over clothing and other buyables is becoming an issue.  I’m worried.  And a bit scared.   Not normally one to mind hauling out the remnants of last decade’s wardrobe for yet another whirl in the name of thrift, it is official, that being unable to shop is driving me bonkers.  A trip to the high street usually results in me moaning and groaning about how The Big People quash The Little People and, as I trot carefree on my high horse, I make disparaging remarks about other people’s poor  taste and bad quality manufacturing.

However.  Lately?  I cannot pop my toe over the weather mat of a store these days without coming over all giddy and ‘wheep-y’.  Last week I took a trip to Topshop.  I hadn’t been to Topshop in a long while since my last trip induced much anger – and an equal measure of general disappointment.  This time round though, there was barely a garment (or pair of shoes/tights/pants) in the whole blinkin’ shop that I wouldn’t have shoved into my shopping basket!

This season’s Topshop collection seems to have been compiled with me in mind (maybe I should get a job in Topshop?). The colours, the cuts, the oh-so-cutesie-retro styleee…  My mind was in a whirl but  my purse didn’t have so much as a  2p jingly jangly about  it (and not because it was full o’ paper money – because is was empty). I decided, despite lack of funds, to ‘treat’ myself to a dressing up party.

I gathered together an armful (two armfuls) of beautiful clothes and headed to the fitting room – in the secret  hope that when I whipped off my rags and slid into these gorgeous fashion riches that every last item would get the ‘hideous’ stamp of disapproval. On my way across the store, a very smiley – not to mention stylish, lady stopped me in my tracks.  I thought for a horrible minute that she might know that I didn’t have any money to buy any of my pretend ‘potential purchases’ and that she might expose me as a shopping charlatan and throw me out on my ear.  Afterall, I was doing really, was making unnecessary work for the fitting room attendant.  I quickly prepared a response to  her complaints: “I know.  I’m sorry Ms Smiley.  You’re right.  I’m not in a position to buy any of these things – but if you just allow me 15 minutes of pleasure in your changing room, as I pretend that I don’t look like a tramp, then I promise I will rehang, rebutton/zip/tie any bits that need doing and I will even place every last item back on the shop floor where it belongs.  Please don’t eject me from Topshop.  That would be embarrassing.”

As it turned out, Ms Smiley ushered me to the all-new Luxury Fitting Area – the room where normally only the rich special ‘Personal Shopping’ customers get to hang out.  I almost fainted.

As Ms smiley led me to the special room (complete with mini-fridge and pretty styling ideas all over the walls), I felt a little bit guilty that she was offering such fabulous service to me, a time wasting pauper.  Never-the-less, I locked my door and got my private fashion show underway.

A weird, horrible ‘miracle’ happened.  Not a single garment was hideous.  Not a single one.  Not the denim skirt.  Not the flowery shirt.  Not the jersey tee.  Not the fancy dress.  And not – absolutely NOT the red suede shorts.  I considered shoplifting the red suede shorts.  Of course, I wouldn’t have actually shoplifted the red suede shorts.  Instead, I just asked Ms Smiley if maybe I could have them.  She laughed out loud – but didn’t really directly answer my question.

The next day, still dreaming of the red suede shorts, I came over all irresponsible and reckless.  I visited the Topshop website and applied for a store card.

My application was denied.

A Proper Saturday

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A day off.  Everyone but everyone needs a day off.  At least once a week, ideally.  But – at least once EVER, for certain.

Today was my day off.  I tend to have one every Saturday.  Clare looks after The Maisonette and I officially get to step away from the computer.  I say I officially get to step away from the computer.  Sometimes, day off or not, I end up pottering away on some piece of Made in the Shade work that niggles at my brain.  In this bid to be kinder to myself and my family this year, I’m desperately trying to enjoy days off.  Thing is – every time Saturday comes around, I face the same dilema.  What to do?  If I spend the day being domestic – filling the dishwasher, doing laundry, tidying up and doing a bit of nesting, is that a well spent day?  Or – if I decide to leave the mess that’s accumulated during the previous 6 days to fester for the next 6 and devote my day to some quality couch time eating violet cremes and watching The Jolson Story – have I wasted my time?  If I decide to get out and about – go outside, meet someone for a cup of tea and a chatter and maybe do some window shopping on the local charity shop trail, when do I get to sit on my ass and relax?  I need three days off.  One to be domestic, one for lounging and one for being a normal person who engages in conversation and fun times with friends and loved ones.  Can we arrange that please?  No?

Today, still riding the wave of sociable-ness I grabbed on Thursday, Beardy and I decided to ditch the chores and head down town like normal people.

With our tummies a-rumblin’, our first stop – Chopstix.  Chopstix is a funny Chinese canteen in a fairly ugly part of town near the train station.  Vaguely reminiscent of a dinner school (where all the dinner ladies are Chinese men), Chopstix offers up wonderfully massive boxes of delicious, freshly cooked rice and noodle dishes on plastic trays.  The metal chair legs make a horrible scraping noise on the tiled floor.  It’s not really a place to hang out – more of a quick stop fill up station. Beardy scoffed some salt & pepper chicken and I munched through every last nugget of sweet and sour yummness before we headed next door to the music store to spend some gift vouchers we got for Christmas but hadn’t had a chance to cash-in until now.

There's something about eating food from a box.

The Fopp trip (Fopp’s the music shop), took up more time that we expected.  I was my usual indecisive self.  With an armful of books, cds and movies, the sifting process was a sore one as I plumped to leave behind the Jesus & Mary Chain boxset, zine compendium and Single Man dvd.  However, I did eventually purchase these…

Belated gifts from Santa

Next up, we trotted round the corner to the  Sub Club.  A veritable den of iniquity and dirty techno most weekends, this afternoon the club was playing host to Glasgow’s newest fashion event, pop-up styling shindig, Bold Souls.  Not sure what to expect exactly, I realised pretty quickly that I wasn’t nearly cool cat enough not to stick out like a sore, poorly dressed thumb as I wandered round the makeshift fashion booths and make-over pods.  However, I did enjoy ooh-ing and aah-ing at beautiful handmade collections by Jennie Loof, Sew Vintage and Margolily.  Oh – and a fella from fancy style blog, Les Garcons de Glasgow took my picture – but I’m guessing more as a ‘what not to do’ example than anything else.  Wearing my hat backwards and with a button missing from my coat, I was hardly rockin’ the street style vibo!

Carrie: Style Calamity

Inspired/shamed by my lack of catwalk cool at Bold Souls, I hit the shops in search of something new, something different, something a little bit out of character.  For years now I’ve been mocking up my own 40s/50s esque, part Pink Lady, part granny chic look.  These days?  I’m hankering for change.  Just as I’ve become a bit bored with Glasgow, with the colour of the walls in my hallway and the tv schedule, I’ve become a bit bored with myself. I dragged poor Beardy round every clothing fixture in H&M for at least an hour, as I picked up items I’d usually walk straight past.  I pondered whether I ought to try squishing my ass into a peg leg troo.  Then thought I might be better off hiding it with a harem pant.  I wondered if I might be able to ‘work’ a floor length knitted dress?  A deep v-neck jumbo knit jumper?  Leggings?  Smock tops?  Riding jackets?  I took a little selection of bits to try on and emerged rather smug that the peg-leg troo plan worked out for the best.  Sold.  Oh – and I went a little bit wild in the hoisery section, but then, I did have to splurge on some new footsie wear to compliment my oh-so-special clogs!

And now I’m at home.  I’m watching a movie as I type and thinking in the back of my mind that maybe if I hadn’t spent yet more cashola I don’t have on bobby socks, I just might be able to order myself a pizza.

Japanese Clogs from Supermarket Sarah

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Last week, I happened upon a flippin’ great website run by Sarah Bagner, aka Supermarket Sarah.

Bringing together interesting and beautiful objects with vintage finds and work by new designers, Sarah’s unique shoppable wall installations made my heart whirr and my eyes light up!

One of Supermarket Sarah's wall displays!

Look at the giant cateye specs! Love 'em.

I’ve borrowed these pics from the Supermarket Sarah website.  Go visit and browse tonnes more wall displays!

The purse-strings in the Maclennan household are pretty much always tied tight, loosened only to buy noodles and yellow sticker M&S products -  but I just couldn’t resist a couple of Supermarket treats so I  gnawed through the double knot and spent a ‘lil pocket money on myself!

After a few hairy moments when I feared my parcel might never show up (I was so excited and not at all good at the ol’ patience thing…) the postman gave a rat-a-tat-tat on the door yesterday and brought me these beautiful things…

New (old) plastic beakers! Perfectly pretty fizzy pop recepticles.

Hanging heart deco. Busy doing homework :)

Hanging deco on the flipside. Welcome!

And now – for the big finish…  My vintage Japanese clogs!

All mine.

Although not one to worship material goods as rule, I am not even the slightest bit ashamed to admit that these additions to my home/wardrobe have truly brightened my life!  It’s true.  And I care not a jot. Thanks Supermarket Sarah!